“Father! father! pardon and hear me; hear me for my dead mother’s sake! hear your Marguerite’s orphan girl! do not make her a widow before she is a wife! My father, do not, oh, do not meet my betrothed in a duel! He was your oldest friend, your brother-in-arms, your promised son; he has stood by your side in many a well-fought battle; in camp and field you two have shared together the dangers and glories of the war. How can you meet as mortal foes? Crowned with victory, blessed with peace, you were both coming home--you to your only daughter, he to his promised bride--both to a devoted girl, who would have laid out her life to make your mutual fireside happy; but whose heart you are about to break! Oh, how can you do this most cruel deed? Oh! it is so horrible! so horrible, that you two should thus meet. Dueling is wicked, but this is worse than dueling! Murder is atrocious, but this is worse than murder! This is parricide! this is the meeting of a father and son, armed each against the other’s life! A father and a son!” “Son! no son or son-in-law of mine, if that is what you mean.” “Father, father, do not say so! He is the sworn husband of your only child. My hand, with your consent, was placed in his by my dying mother’s hand. He clasped my fingers closely, promising never to forsake me! A promise made to the living in the presence of the dying! A promise that he has never retracted, and wishes never to retract. My soul’s salvation upon Ralph Houston’s honor!” “Margaret Helmstedt! put the last seal to my mortification, and tell me that you love this man--this man whose family has spurned you!” “I love him--for life, and death, and eternity!” she replied, in a tone vibrating with earnestness. “You speak your own degradation, miserable girl.”